Guardsman of Gor
Page 25
She regarded me, not speaking.
"As a slave girl," I said, "you must be quite proud of it."
"Please!" she protested.
"I am sure you are," I said.
She regarded me, angrily.
"I see you are," I said.
"I did not mean to deny, of course," she said, "that I was branded."
"That is well," I said, "for the lovely mark is well incised, and incontrovertibly, into your very pretty thigh."
"Please do not speak so explicitly of my body," she said.
"I shall do as I please," I said.
She put her head down, not responding.
"You were then only a girl of Gor, and a slave," I said.
She looked up, angrily. "And I seem to recall," I said, "that on the Street of the Writhing Slave, you cried out, confessing to me, that she in my arms was now naught but a Gorean slave girl."
She looked at me, angrily. She bit her lip.
"And, as I recall," I said, "she cried herself mine."
She looked at me, in fury.
"Have you forgotten?" I asked.
"No," she said. I was pleased to see that she was too shrewd to lie to me.
"But however you are pleased to view these matters," I said, "it makes little difference to me, whether we think of ourselves as being of Earth or Gor." I looked at her, naked before me. I fingered the slave whip. "Our realities, in either case," I pointed out, "remain much as they are."
"As an Earth man could own an Earth woman, you could own me on Gor?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"May I get to my feet?" she asked.
"No," I told her.
"You cannot own me!" she cried.
I did not deign to respond to so foolish an assertion. Did she not know that she was a branded, collared Gorean slave girl.
"Oh, I know you could own me," she laughed, uneasily, "but I know that you will not choose to own me."
"Why not?" I asked.
"You knew me from Earth," she said.
"That will make the owning of you all the more delicious," I said.
"'Delicious'?" she said.
"Yes, delicious," I said, "my beauty."
"'Your beauty,'" she asked.
"Yes," I said, "my beauty."
"You speak of me as though I were a slave," she said, resentfully, "as though I were your property, as though I belonged to you!"
"You are a slave," I said, "and you are my property, and you do belong to me."
"But you will free me!" she cried.
"If that were my intention," I said, "it seems strange that I have just put my collar on you."
"But that was surely a joke, a cruel jest," she said.
"Feel the collar," I said.
She lifted her hands to the collar.
"Is it heavy or uncomfortable?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"It is a woman's collar," I said. "But it is close-fitting, of inflexible steel, and securely locked."
"Yes," she said.
"You have worn such collars before, have you not?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"You are familiar with them, and their effectiveness?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Have I offered to remove it from you?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Can you remove it?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"Try," I said.
Pathetically she struggled with the collar. Then, after a moment, she ceased her useless struggles. "No," she said, her fingers still hooked within the locked, obdurate band, "I cannot remove it."
"You may then fairly assume," I suggested, "that it has been fastened upon you."
"I know it has been fastened upon me," she cried. "I cannot get it off!"
"What sort of collar is it?" I asked.
"A slave collar!" she cried.
"Precisely," I said.
"Is it not a joke?" she whimpered.
"No," I said.
She looked at me, frightened.
"I am beginning to grow impatient with you," I said. "Perhaps you should be lashed."
She shrank back. "But you have brought me to our house," she said.
"Not our house," I said, "my house."
"You would keep me as a slave in the very house where once I was free?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "But I have made certain improvements, bars and certain security devices, for example. Also, I have put in a new and stouter kennel for you and a new slave ring at the foot of my couch."
She looked at me, aghast.
"It is my hope that you will like them," I said.
"What sort of man are you?" she asked.
"One who will own you, fully," I told her.
"Then I am to understand," she said, "that it is possible that you might, in all seriousness, choose to keep me as your slave?"
"The choice is already made," I said. "It was made long ago."
"And what did you choose?" she asked.
"Are you stupid?" I asked.
"I am not stupid," she said.
"You speak as though you are stupid," I said. I wondered if, truly, she was stupid. If so, it would lower her value, considerably. I was growing weary of her fencings, her inanities, her protests. Did she think she was a free woman? Perhaps she must soon be reminded that she was a slave. That could be easily done.
"This is Gor," she said. "The choice, of course, is yours, totally." She looked at me, angrily. "What did you choose for me?"
"What do you think?" I asked.
"Freedom," she said, "respect, honor, dignity."
"No," I said.
"—Slavery?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"—Full slavery?" she asked.
"Yes," I told her, "total and complete slavery."
"I see that you must be taught the character and will, and the intelligence and power, of a woman of Earth," she said. She rose to her feet. "Take this collar off my neck, fellow," she said. "Do it now!"
I looked at her.
"I am calling your bluff," she said, "—Jason." Then suddenly she screamed, struck by the Gorean slave lash, her body stripped, stumbling across the room, striking against the wall, at whose foot she fell. She looked up at me, in terror, from the foot of the wall.
"Crawl to the center of the room, and lie there on your belly," I said.
Swiftly she did so.
"It is your bluff which has been called, little slave," I said.
She lay at my feet, shuddering, prone, her hands at the sides of her head.
"I will let you kiss me," she said. "I will even let you make love to me!"
I looked down upon her. I was furious. She had been an insolent slave.
"Let me be your employee," she said. "I am willing, even, to be your love employee! You do not need to pay me much. You do not need to pay me anything at all! I will work for nothing for you! Let me be your love servant! Sometimes I will even serve you as might a slave girl!"
"What did I ever think I saw in you?" I asked her. "What possible interest could I ever have thought I had in you?" I ran the whip along her side, and she shuddered. "To be sure," I said, "you are rather pretty, in a trivial and servile fashion." I continued to move the whip on her body, and she whimpered, helpless on the tiles before me. "I wonder what I could get for you," I said, "such a petty, stupid, worthless, meaningless, stinking little slave." She was whimpering. "Oh!" she said. "You do have the reflexes of the slave though," I said. "That would surely improve your price." She cried out in shame, putting the side of her head down to the tiles, her fingers scratching at them. "I think I shall put you up for sale, you pretty, meaningless little brute," I said.
"Oh, oh," she cried.
"Are you hot in your collar, little brute?" I asked, angrily.
"Oh!" she cried. Then she began to sob. Her tears fell to the tiles.
"But before you could be put up for sale," I said, "you must learn certain lessons, which app
arently you have earlier failed to master, on the position, and condition, of the Gorean slave girl."
She shuddered with fear. She saw now, on the tiles before her, gently swinging, the shadows of the five loosened blades of the Gorean slave lash.
"You will not whip me," she said. "Surely you will not whip me!"
I then, furious with her, savagely laid the whip to her beauty. She writhed, and screamed, and twisted, and turned beneath the whip, from her belly to her back, and to her sides, and to her back, and to her sides again, and back, trying to fend the blows. She had displeased me. She had dared even to speak my name.
Then she lay before me, on her back, her legs drawn up, her hands extended. "Please, Master," she wept, "do not beat me further."
"What did you call me?" I asked.
"Master," she said. "Master. Master!"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you are my Master!" she said. "Because you are my Master!"
"Are you sure of that?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Have you any doubt of it?" I inquired.
"No, Master," she said. "No, Master!"
"What are you?" I asked.
"A slave!" she cried.
"Whose slave?" I asked.
"Yours," she wept, "yours, Master!"
I then permitted her to scramble to her knees and she knelt before me, kissing at my feet. "You seem not as vain and arrogant as you were before," I said.
"No, Master," she said.
"Perhaps you have learned a little more of your slavery now," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What do you wish to do?" I asked.
"Please my Master," she said.
"The answer is suitable," I said.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
"Lift your head," I said.
She did so, fearfully, looking at me.
"Drop to your hands and knees, to all fours, and turn away from me," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You spoke my name," I said. "It is strange that you, a Gorean slave girl, should have made that mistake."
"Yes, Master," she said, "but I have been well whipped."
I then struck her again with the lash. "Oh!" she cried.
"Perhaps you should have been slain," I said.
"Forgive me, Master," she said.
"Oh!" she cried out, in misery, the lash again swiftly falling upon her.
"And you were lax in your deference," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."
Again I struck her.
"Did you think that such things would go unnoticed?" I asked her.
"No, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master."
Again I struck her.
"And you were insolent," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said. "Forgive me, Master!"
Again I struck her.
"Did you expect your insolence to be overlooked?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "Please, please, forgive me, Master!"
"Oh!" she cried, in pain, once more well lashed.
Her head was down. Tears were upon the tiles.
"What shall I do with you?" I asked.
"I am your slave," she said. "You may do with me whatever you wish."
"That is known to me," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Why were you insolent?" I asked.
"It is difficult to speak in this position," she said.
"Speak," I said.
"When I saw that it was you, and remembering you from before, I sought to exploit your weakness, and conquer you. There is some gratification in this for a woman, for she is then a little bit like a man, a master, which she knows in her heart she is not. Too, it pleases her to torture weak men, men too weak to put her in the chains she longs to wear. But these gratifications, ultimately, are shallow and empty, and we, in our hearts, know that. Each sex has its place, and neither will be happy until it occupies that place. The place of man is master; the place of woman is slave. Gorean men, of course, do not see fit to tolerate our nonsense. They put us promptly in our places. They make us slaves. Had you not been from Earth, I would not have dared to behave as I did. Seeing you, remembering you from before, it did not even occur to me that I might be kneeling before one who had become, truly, a Gorean male. I wish that I had understood that, clearly. I could have saved myself much pain. Women engage in battles which they yearn to lose. We wish to be overwhelmed and conquered. That is why we fight. If we do not protest and fight, of what value to a man, we ask ourselves, will be our conquest? But, of course, I should not have fought you. I am only a slave girl, a girl already collared and conquered. I am not a free woman. It was presumptuous of me to indulge myself in the vanities of a free woman. I am a slave. I should have submitted myself to you, immediately and fully. Forgive me, Master. It is my hope that you will permit me to live."
I regarded her. She was pretty, in my collar, and on all fours.
"May I explain my behavior further, Master?" she asked. "It may make you regard me less harshly."
"Do so," I said.
"I want to be a slave," she said. "I feared you would free me. It was thus that I challenged you. It was thus that I tried to incite you to my conquest. It was thus that I tried to make you angry, that you might make me your slave, and keep me as such, uncompromisingly."
"That was not necessary," I said.
"I am now well aware of that, Master," she said. "I did not know it at the time, however."
I said nothing.
"My behavior, however foolish it might have been, was motivated by a desire to be kept in bondage," she whispered. "Perhaps now you will think more understandingly, more pityingly, of your girl."
"So you desire to be a slave?" I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, "fervently."
"And you are a slave," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said, "completely."
"Do you think that you are free, or that you have any rights whatsoever?" I asked.
"No, Master," she said. "I know that such delusions are not permitted to a Gorean slave girl."
"Do you not fear your bondage?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said, "and sometimes we fear it terribly, the uncertainty and the terrors of it, knowing that men can do with us what they please, but these things heighten our experience, adding zest and spice to it, making it more meaningful, and, too, without them, we know that we would not truly be in bondage, which is the condition for which we yearn."
"So you accept the miseries and terrors of bondage?" I asked.
"Willingly, and gladly, Master," she said, "and did we not do so then unwillingly and tremblingly must we accept them, for we are slaves."
"Do you like being a slave?" I asked.
She was silent.
"Speak," I said.
"Must I speak, Master?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered. "I like being a slave. No, that is not enough. I love being a slave. I love it! I love it! It is what I am, and should be. I could not be happy, and fulfilled, out of a man's collar. It is always what I have yearned for, to love and serve, to belong, to be owned, to be mastered and dominated, dominated by a powerful male, a master, who will see to it that I am superb as a female, he will permit nothing less, he will have all from me, dominated with severe and uncompromising perfection, to know that I must please, fully, or be beaten, to be subject to discipline, to the blindfold and gag, to chains and the whip! Indeed, I sometimes want the master to whip me, so that I may know myself truly slave and his, as I wish to be."
"How scandalous," I mocked her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Then," said I, "from what you have been taught, on your old world, you must be worthless, must you not?"
"Perhaps, Master," she said. "I do not know. Who decides such things? I do know what I am, and what I want. Surely one may be what one is, and seek what one desires."
"Adopt for a moment the standpoint of Earth," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are then worthless, are you not?"
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Adopt now, and retain," said I, "the standpoint of Gor."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are now worthless, again, are you not?"
"Perhaps, Master," she said. "I do not know. I might perhaps have some small value as a man's slave. I would hope so. Surely a slave is worth at least a little. And I have been told that I am pretty."
"Do you think you are desirable?" I asked.
"It is a slave's hope that she might be found desirable," she said.
"Let us speak realistically," I said. "What do you think you would bring?"
"Bring?"
"On the sales block."
"Does Master plan on selling me?"
"Perhaps," I said.
"Please do not, Master," she said.
"Why not?"
"I desire to be Master's slave," she said.
"Truly?" I asked, bemused.
"Yes, Master," she said, "fervently, Master."
"Perhaps you think I would be easy with you?" I said.
"No, Master," she said. "Your girl does not think you would be easy with her. Indeed, Master knows me too well to be easy with me."
"It is true, you troublesome, curvaceous little beast, you stinking little brute," I said.
"A slave thinks that Master finds her desirable," she whispered.
"Beware," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are dangerous," I said.
"No, Master," she averred.
"The beauty of women makes them dangerous," I said.
"There is little to fear from us if we are in collars, Master."
"That is true," I granted her.
"And there is always the whip, Master," she said.
"True," I said.
"The men of Gor know well how to handle women," she said.
"At least those in collars," I said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
The free women of Gor, of course, can be as unpleasant, irritating, complaining, demanding, and troublesome, and such, as those of Earth. Indeed, I think more so, as few women of Earth, for all their vaunted freedoms, would dare to manifest the imperious behaviors and arrogant demeanors of the typical Gorean free woman, particularly one of high caste, or of the merchants. Class on Earth exists, but is usually concealed, or not emphasized. It, or caste, on the other hand, tends to be very explicit and obvious on Gor. Rank, distance and hierarchy are prominent in Gorean society. These things being as they are, the translation of a Gorean woman of high caste to the collar is likely to be in its way as grievous, or more grievous, a social dislocation in status for her as the reduction of an Earth woman, who has never even considered such a fate for herself, to the collar. Each has her adjustment to make. The Earth girl has not even thought of bondage and then she finds herself brought to Gor and collared. The Gorean woman is quite familiar with bondage, as it is pervasive on Gor, but she will be dismayed, at least initially, with what has become of her. She now finds herself helplessly a form of woman she has been taught to regard as less than human, as only a property, as no more than a vended animal, a form of woman she has been taught all her life, from her early girlhood on, to look down upon and despise, a form of woman scarcely worth her contempt, a form of woman she has always disdained and scorned, a form of woman she has shunned, abused, reviled and hated. I wonder if the transition to bondage may not be easier for the abducted beauty of Earth than for the captured free woman of Gor. Indeed, it is doubtless easier for the Earth girl for, on Earth, she is subject to a number of concealed bondages, whereas on Gor she encounters an open, honest bondage, and one natural to, and indigenous to, the human species, the subjection of the female of the species to the male of the species. Both the Earth girl and the Gorean free woman, of course, once embonded, find themselves in their fitting place, whether they wish it or not, in the order of nature. Sooner or later, of course, both, given suitable masters, come to revel in their collars. Submission is the perfection of woman, dominance that of man. In this relationship both reach accord with nature, and in this each finds fulfillment. It might be mentioned, in passing, however, that the Gorean woman, even in a collar, tends to hold the Earth-girl slave as no more than a lowly, despicable barbarian. How angry then are sometimes the Gorean women when they find that such contemptible creatures as Earth-girl slaves may sometimes be preferred by men to them, and even bring higher prices on the block. Woe to the Earth-girl slave who finds herself in a situation, perhaps in a pleasure garden or tavern, or laundry or mill, in which a Gorean slave girl is "first girl" over her. How the Earth girl must then hope to come rather into a situation quite different, ideally, one supposes, one in which she is the single slave of a single master, one whom she will humbly strive to well serve, whose heart she may set herself to win.